


making the most of it

by FagurFiskur



Series: Tropes! [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Consent is asked for and given but there are extenuating circumstances, Dubious Consent, M/M, Omega Dean, Sexual Harassment, from a third party that's neither Dean nor Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: Dean meets his new husband outside the chapel, just minutes before they’re to be wed.





	making the most of it

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a trope-mash up prompt I got on tumblr. Explanation for the dubious consent tag is in the end note, for anyone interested.
> 
> Big thanks as always to avyssoseleison for reading through this for me!

Dean meets his new husband outside the chapel, just minutes before they’re to be wed.

His name is Castiel. He’s not bad looking, or as old as Dean had feared, but he’s still an alpha that Dean is being given to without his consent or input. He also looks at Dean with a faint look of disdain, like Dean is something he dragged into the house on his shoe.

Dean decides then and there that he hates him.

The ceremony is a short one, which Dean figures is mostly because his family is worried that he’ll bail half-way through. Which is just stupid; if he wanted to bail, he would have done it last night. He knows his family is counting on this deal going through, and Dean marrying the youngest Novak alpha is a non-negotiable part of it.

That doesn’t mean he’s gonna let Novak fuck him, though, and he tells him as much once they’re alone in the honeymoon suite, after a short and somber wedding party.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Novak tells him curtly. “I have no desire to touch you, much less lay with you.”

This fucking _asshole_.

“Fine,” Dean says. Then adds, “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

They skip the honeymoon, moving into a penthouse apartment in Chicago the next morning, courtesy of the Novak clan. It’s sparsely decorated but there’s a giant television in the living room and the view is spectacular.

Novak takes the master suite and Dean moves into the guestroom. Even that is fancier than anything Dean is used to and not for the first time, he wonders why the Novak clan agreed to this deal.

Because Dean is a _male_ _omega_ , of course. A rare commodity. A precious thing to have and to show off, to add to the family prestige.

Not that Dean is doing the one thing that omegas are supposed to be good for, letting his alpha bend him over and breed him. But then, Novak hasn’t exactly been pushing him for it.

It’s confusing. When Novak agreed to this deal, Dean was sure he’d try and mount him the very first night, but so far he’s kept his hands to himself. Maybe it isn’t about having an omega for him so much as people knowing he has one. He does seem disgusted by the thought of touching him. Maybe he’s one of those people who think omegas are freaks of nature.

It pisses Dean off just to think about it, so he tries not to. He doesn’t seem Novak much anyway, so what he thinks of Dean shouldn’t matter.

Since the wedding and the move, Dean hasn’t left the apartment much. His friends and family are all a hundred miles away, he works from home, and Novak has his maid take care of the grocery shopping and other errands. Novak is always gone in the morning when Dean wakes up and he’s usually not back until shortly before they go to bed in their separate rooms.

Dean feels cooped up. More than that, he’s lonely. He skypes with Sam every night, and Charlie and Benny a couple of times a week, but it’s not the same. What he really needs is a bar or a club he can go to, some place to socialize.

It’s maybe not the smartest thing he’s ever done, going alone to a strange bar in a neighborhood he doesn’t yet know, but it’s either that or ask Novak for help. And like _hell_ is he gonna ask Novak for help.

It’s fine at first. Dean finds a bar not too far away from the apartment that’s tidy and tastefully decorated. He buys himself a beer and sits at a table in the corner. He’s only been there for ten minutes when a man approaches him; tall, handsome, and obviously alpha judging by the faint whiff Dean catches from him.

He’d be Dean’s type, under different circumstances.

“I’m Keith,” the alpha introduces himself, holding a hand out to Dean.

“Dean,” Dean replies, taking it. Keith holds on just a little too long, so once he lets go Dean holds his hand up to show him his wedding ring. “And just to get it right out of the way, I’m married.”

Keith shrugs. “I get you. Do you mind if I sit here, anyway?”

Dean doesn’t.

They talk for a long while about nothing much. Dean gets himself another beer, then Keith offers to buy another round, smiling and waving it off when Dean reminds him that he’s married. It’s nice, just talking to another person, even if Keith is giving off slight douchebag vibes and isn’t otherwise all that interesting.

It’s nearing midnight when Dean decides to call it quits and gets up. Keith moves to follow, and alarm bells go off in Dean’s head.

“I really should be going home,” he tells him.

Keith smiles again. It has an edge to it that Dean didn’t notice before. “Let me follow you to your car.”

“I walked,” Dean replies.

“Even more reason to make sure you get home okay, then.”

The alarms ring louder. Dean is not leaving the safety of this bar with this creep following him. “I can take care of myself.”

“But you don’t need to.” Keith steps closer to him, crowding against Dean. He puts his hand on Dean’s waist.

“Married,” Dean reminds him through clenched teeth.

Keith laughs. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Dean has had enough. He grabs Keith’s wrist and when Keith just tightens his grip on Dean, lifts his foot and brings his heel down hard on Keith’s toes.

Keith lets go, groaning in pain. “You _bitch_.”

Dean isn’t expecting it, so he doesn’t react fast enough when Keith raises his fist. Next thing he knows, he’s staggering backwards, a sharp pain in the right side of his face.

He just got _punched_.

There’s a crowd gathering around them, the bouncer already on his way over. Dean could let him take care of this.

He _could_. But he just got punched in the face and he feels like teaching Keith a lesson about messing with omegas.

The fight doesn’t last long. Even before the bouncer breaks it off, Keith is flat on his ass with a bloody nose.

Dean gets off with a warning. He heads straight home, just wanting to let this whole miserable night wash off him in the shower and then crawl into bed. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have anyone around who cares, otherwise he’d have to explain the bruise quickly forming above his cheekbone.

When he gets back to the apartment, Novak is sitting in the living room. He looks annoyed when Dean gets in, no doubt internally judging him for being out so late, but his face falls when he gets a better look at Dean.

“What happened?”

There's genuine concern in his voice that throws Dean off kilter.

“Nothing,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. “You should see the other guy.”

Novak gets off the couch, crossing the room in quick strides. He stops right in front of Dean, reaching to grasp his chin. Dean flinches from the touch so he lowers his hand, takes half a step back.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Just some creep.” Dean shrugs. “It’s nothing you gotta worry about, I took care of it.”

“You were assaulted?”

Again, there’s the show of concern. Dean’s not sure what to do with it. He didn’t think Novak gave a shit whether he lived or died but here he is, ready to have a conniption just because Dean showed up with one tiny bruise.

“I’m fine,” Dean bites out. “It’ll fade in a couple of days.”

Novak seems to realize that this line of questioning won’t get him anywhere. “Why were you out?”

“Just needed some fresh air. Company. Y’know.”

“I don’t.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, even you can’t be that much of a robot. You realize I’m alone here, right? Everyone I know lives in another city and I haven’t had the chance to go out and meet new people yet. You won’t even touch me, much less talk to me.”

Novak is staring at him, so Dean snaps his mouth shut. He didn’t mean to say all that but he’s frustrated and tired, now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

“I- I’m sorry,” Novak says. “I didn’t realize.”

Dean crosses his arms. “Not your problem, is it?”

“I’m going out with some friends on Friday night. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

“Your friends anything like you?” Dean asks before he stop himself. He regrets it as soon as he’s said it; Novak is being nice to him for once and doesn't deserve to get snarked at for his efforts. “Sorry.”

“They’re not,” Novak says with a wry smile. “Come with us. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

It’s probably not a good idea but Dean is so sick of being alone.

“Sure.”

Novak’s friends – Castiel’s friends, Dean might as well start using his first name now that they’re hanging out – _aren’t_ anything like him.

They’re loud and crude, and surprisingly tactile. Just five minutes after they meet, an omega named Meg puts her arm around Dean’s shoulder and offers him a joint. When Dean refuses, she leans over him to hand it to Balthazar, the omega on Dean’s other side.

Most of Castiel’s friends are omegas, actually. There’s a couple of betas in the group as well but only one other alpha, a cheerful dude named Garth who is about as far from a stereotypical knothead as you’re likely to get.

Dean isn’t sure what to make of it, but it’s something.

The bar they meet in is in the opposite direction of the one Dean went to the other night, probably just as well. It’s called Purgatory (“Like the one in Miami?”) and it’s got that rustic decor that all the hipsters were creaming themselves over five years ago.

Castiel’s group of friends is strange but they’re entertaining and Dean finds himself relaxing for the first time since he got to Chicago. Castiel also seems to have removed the stick from his ass for the night and a couple of times, Dean even catches him smiling at him.

Dean smiles back, ignoring the odd warmth in his chest. Castiel has a nice smile, that’s all. It doesn't mean anything.

After that, they start seeing more of each other. Castiel goes to the office later in the mornings now, so Dean doesn’t have to get up at an ungodly hour just so they can eat breakfast together. He also comes home earlier and they spend some time together. Whenever Castiel goes out with his friends, he invites Dean along, and Dean starts to make plans with some of them outside of those group outings.

Castiel still doesn’t touch him, though. They still sleep in separate rooms. They’re getting closer but they’re more like casual acquaintances than an actual married couple.

It shouldn’t bother Dean as much as it does. He didn’t want this marriage either. Castiel is doing the bare minimum of being a nice fucking person to him and suddenly he’s tripping over himself to get on all fours and present for him?

Fuck that. He’s not gonna give Castiel the satisfaction of wanting him. Especially not when Castiel so obviously doesn’t want him back.

“I am approaching my rut.”

Castiel announces it casually over breakfast. So casual that Dean misses the content of his words at first. Once they hit him, he drops his fork.

“Oh,” he says. “When – uh, when’s it happening?”

“In a few hours, I expect.”

Dean swallows, warmth crawling into his cheeks. “Do you… need help with that?”

Castiel shakes his head sharply. “I will take care of it myself.”

Dean winces. A heat is extremely unpleasant to go through alone – he should know, he’s gone through them all by himself under the wakeful eyes of his family to make sure he remained chaste – and he can’t imagine a rut being any easier.

“You sure about that?”

“I’ve given Hael the next three days off,” Castiel says instead of answering. “I suggest you leave the apartment as well. Meg has offered to house you for the duration of my rut.”

That’s definitely not a good idea.

“I’d rather stay here,” Dean says. “Make sure you don’t, like, die of dehydration or hunger because you were too busy jacking off to take care of yourself.”

Castiel flushes. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Afraid you’re gonna jump me?”

Castiel turns redder and doesn’t answer. Probably doesn’t wanna hurt Dean’s feelings by reminding him that he’s repulsed by just the thought of touching him.

“I’m staying,” Dean says decisively.

Castiel just looks at him. There’s a look in his eyes that might be relief. Dean ignores it and goes back to shoving forkfuls of bacon into his mouth.

Once Castiel’s rut hits, he locks himself in his bedroom. Dean goes into the living room with his laptop to work but it soon becomes impossible to focus.

Castiel is loud. He’s not shouting or anything but these pained-sounding grunts keep filtering through the bedroom door and into the living room, where Dean is sitting with warm ears and heat rapidly pooling in his crotch. He tries to put headphones in but he’s so hyper-aware of just what it is he’s blocking out, he still can’t focus.

After an hour, he gives up and goes to the kitchen to prepare something that Castiel can scarf down in between self-abuse sessions. He grabs a couple of water bottles as well and waits until he hears the noises in Castiel’s bedroom die down to knock.

“It’s unlocked,” comes Castiel’s voice from inside. He sounds _wrecked_ , voice even deeper and rougher than normal, and Dean feels himself growing slick.

It’s just hormones, he reminds himself as he opens the door. He takes a step inside and is immediately inundated with alpha pheromones, so strong that his dick is immediately at half-mast and slick starts gushing out.

“Wow,” he mutters.

Castiel doesn’t move from his prone position in the bed but he groans. “Just leave it on the floor.”

“You okay?” Dean can’t help asking. “You sure you don’t need-”

“ _Dean_.” Castiel’s voice is rough and commanding and to his annoyance, Dean finds himself snapping his mouth shut on instinct. “Leave it and go, _please_.”

He sounds so pained. Probably not as big a fan of Dean’s smell as Dean is of his. Dean quietly puts the tray of food and the water bottles on the floor and leaves, shame burning in the back of his throat.

He’d been about to offer Castiel help. The kind of help he’s never offered _any_ alpha. And Castiel rejected him before he could even finish.

God, how pathetic could you get?

A day and a half later and Castiel’s rut has crossed from sounding painful to sounding _torturous_. Dean brings him food several times and Castiel looks more haggard each time, the bags underneath his eyes growing and his skin turning paler.

By the second afternoon, Dean has had enough.

He goes up to Castiel’s door and knocks.

“What?” Castiel growls.

“You need to accept some help already,” Dean says. “This can’t be normal.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re making yourself sick,” Dean shoots back. “How have you gotten through more than a couple of ruts if they’re always this bad?”

It takes Castiel a while to answer. “They’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“I usually have… help.”

Jealousy rises like bile in Dean’s throat. He ignores it; this isn’t about him. “So call someone.”

“I’m a married man now,” Castiel says, somehow managing to sound sardonic through the door. “I can’t be seen accepting help from omegas who aren’t my mate.”

“Then let me help.”

The words come rushing out of Dean’s mouth before he can stop them. He wants to grab them back, especially when Castiel answers:

“No.”

“Well, those are your options,” Dean says angrily, choking back the humiliation. “Either risk your reputation or fuck an omega who disgusts you. I’m not letting you send yourself to the hospital just because you’re being a stubborn asshole.”

“You don’t disgust me.”

It takes Dean a moment to understand what Castiel said. “I don’t?”

Castiel groans. It’s not the aroused, pained groans he’s been making this past day and a half. This is a more familiar groan, one utterly exasperated with Dean. “You definitely don’t. You must know how attractive you are.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean licks his lips. “Why don’t you wanna touch me, then?”

“It’s you who don’t want me to touch you. I’ve just been giving you the space you asked me for.”

“Seriously?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to groan. “Dude, what I said on our _wedding night_ doesn’t go for the rest of our lives. I didn’t even know you then.”

Castiel doesn’t answer.

“Cas?”

“…So you really _want_ to help me?”

Dean leans against the door. “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

“Dean, I need more than that.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s heart his hammering. “I want you.”

There’s no answer. Then the doors are being yanked open and Dean stumbles inside, right into Castiel’s arms. He flails but Castiel catches him with ease, pulling him back up by his shoulders and tugging him in for a searing kiss.

It takes Dean a moment but he responds, kissing back enthusiastically as Castiel starts tearing his clothes off. The air in the room is stale and stinks of sex, and the sheets are filthy as Castiel pushes Dean onto them. It’s far from ideal but Dean still moans like a champ when Castiel grabs his thighs and pushes into him in one, smooth thrust.

Cas’ rut lasts for three more days. Hael comes back in the middle of it and leaves right away again, sending Cas a pointed text reminding him to let her know the next time she needs to extend her leave.

Dean and Cas hardly leave bed the entire time except to bathe and eat. Dean is feeling half-way delirious by the end of it, hopped up on happy alpha pheromones and basking in the afterglow of a series of glorious orgasms.

They lie in bed after the last time, bodies pressed together from head to toe. They’re sweaty and sticky with come but neither one of them has the energy to move right now. Cas’ chin is resting on the top of Dean’s head and Dean’s nose is tucked against his collarbone, Cas’ arm swung over Dean and his fingers tracing patterns against the soft skin of his inner elbow.

“Thank you,” Cas says quietly, so quiet that Dean almost misses it.

“Not a problem,” he replies with a breathy laugh. “Seriously, anytime. I didn’t know it could be this… intense.”

Cas’ fingers stop moving. “You haven’t shared your heats with anyone?”

“Nope. An omega is supposed to stay chaste until marriage, remember? My family made sure I didn’t have anyone with me.”

“Oh?”

It might be Dean’s imagination but Cas sounds pleased at that.

“Don’t get any wild ideas about me being a virgin before we met,” he adds. “I wasn’t kept under such a close watch all the time.”

“Oh.”

Dean swallows. “Does that… bother you?”

“I would be a hypocrite if it did.”

“There's plenty of alphas who don’t mind being hypocrites in that way,” Dean points out.

“That’s true, I suppose,” Cas says. “But I’d like to think I’m not that kind of alpha.”

Dean presses a kiss against Cas’ chest. “I know you’re not. If you were, you would have said yes as soon as I offered to help you with your rut. Hell, you wouldn’t have even waited for me to offer.”

“That’s barbaric behavior.”

“Good thing you’re not a barbarian then.” Dean smirks. “Except in bed, maybe.”

He can’t see Cas’ face but he can practically _feel_ him preening.

Things change again after that. Now it’s like Cas can’t _stop_ touching him. Not that Dean really minds the attention, especially not when Cas’ rut hormones kick off his own heat a week later and they spend another three amazing days in bed.

It’s still not an ideal situation but they’re making the most of it. If Dean had to get married to any strange alpha, he’s glad it was Cas. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged dubious consent because Cas is in a rut when they have sex and it's not discussed beforehand but both are enthusiastic participants and they don't regret it.


End file.
